


Things we lost

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood, Established Relationship, Hawke in the Fade, Here Lies the Abyss, M/M, Memories, and fluffy memories, implied potential character death, injuries, with some hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Hawke has been left behind in the Fade, alone with his thoughts and memories.Outside, his absence is being noticed by those still waiting for his return.





	Things we lost

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt fill for @xiz0r 
> 
> Angst: 4 - “I don’t want to do this without you” from [this drabble list ](http://thejourneymaninn.tumblr.com/post/168311469473/drabble-list/)

_Well, that sure is a lot of blood…_

How much of it is his? He can feel it seeping into his armour, oozing from a hundred cuts, a thousand, tastes pain, fresh and sharp on his tongue with every stubborn breath. Stained leather, all that remains, the only thing that’s tangible, _real,_ in this sickly mist, this barren world where nothing has substance and everything’s a nightmare.

Nightmare – like the one at his feet. Solid enough to hurt him. Real enough to die.

_Your threats were no match for my blades._

At least it wasn’t for nothing. They made it out of here.

_And they shut the door behind them. How thoughtful. Tell me, Hawke, who created the prison too weak to hold him? Who kept the secret, threatened your family, colluded with demons? Whose sins did you so readily choose to pay for?_

_You are too willing to involve yourself in the affairs of others, Hawke._

The words echo in his head as lets himself sink onto a jagged rock. He winces, the change of position tugging at his wounds. The stone is cold, of a blackness that seems to absorb all light. Just one minute. Just one short break.

_He always gets rid of spiders for me. He knows how much I hate their hairy little legs. Should have listened to him. Should have listened to him more often._

_I am sorry, Fenris._

_My responsibility, my ass._

What’s done is done. And it wasn’t for nothing. The thing is dead. The Inquisition still has a chance. Whether it deserves it is another matter…

It’s out of his hands now. No one left to protect. No world to change, no wars to win.

Lost. Free. No difference, no meaning.

_So this is how it feels._

In the distance, he can make out shapes. Not solid like the pitch-black rocks and warped buildings around him, no, they are twisting, moving. Lurking.

But for now, they are merely specks on the horizon. He can spare a moment, allow himself to close his eyes, and think. Of a hand shooting up to cover a sudden giggle, of brows arched in mock reprimand, of that one, deep furrow that forms between them when he’s displeased and how it feels beneath his lips when they brush against it, of the one-sided twitch of his lips when he tries to hide his amusement, and a sly smile challenging him to reveal his hand at Wicked Grace.

He smiles back, at his audience of none, a feeble, sad smile that takes more effort than it should. How much time has passed?

_Are these shapes getting bigger?_

Perhaps he can take them on. Perhaps he can outrun them. But even if he does….this place cannot sustain him. It was never meant for living things.

_How many fights do I have left in me?_

“So this is how it ends,” he whispers as he tries to hold on to his eyes, his smile, the balm of his voice. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

 

* * *

  

He’s been feeling uneasy for days. Nervous, restless, always on the hunt for another task to keep him from obsessing over the thought that _something isn’t right_.

_What,_ Fenris doesn’t know, but the feeling doesn’t care for facts and knowledge; it won’t abate.

_There’s been no word from Hawke or Varric._

No reason to worry, certainly. Hawke hardly ever sends letters. He prefers to return to him with a booming “Surprise!” and a smug face. Fenris misses his face. His voice. The warmth of his body in the dark.

Neither of them trusted this new, powerful organisation whose influence spreads faster than the Blight. Still, Hawke asked to go alone, fool that he is. And fool that he is, Fenris agreed.

Varric will keep an eye on Hawke. He would not have involved him if it wasn’t safe. It always takes him a while to finish his novel-length letters. Lies and elaborations aren’t spun quickly, it would seem. Nothing unusual, no need to worry.

But he can’t help it, this feeling of dread, like ants bustling beneath his skin. It’s as though something is reaching for him, always just beyond the edge of his vision. He can’t get a grip on it, can’t bring it into focus. Try as he might, it slips through his fingers, leaving nothing but dread.

What is it that he cannot see?

 

* * *

  

The door slams into the wall with a bang that can only signify the arrival of a Hawke.

Just not the one he’s been hoping for.

“I thought you had left with Isabela. Weren’t you supposed to smuggle the survivors to—“

“There’s no time for that,” she cuts him off. When did she become so brusque, so decisive? _Hawke would be so proud_. “Get your things. Isabela’s off to pick up the others. I’ll explain on the way.”

She stares him down from the doorway Hawke’s mabari at her heels.

_Can dogs look worried? Or is he merely whining to get a treat?_

His sword is always at hand; his bag always packed. You never know when you’ll have to run, when everything might fall apart. When they’ll come for you.

He doesn’t argue. If Bethany says there is reason to hurry, there is reason to hurry. But that he trusts her doesn’t mean he won’t inquire what is going on.

He makes it as far as “What—“

“I had a dream,” she states as though it explains everything. “And I think I know a way to find him.” For a moment, her eyes close; she seems unsteady, swaying on her feet. “If it isn’t already too late.”

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the amazing @damnedapostate for coming up with the title


End file.
